


While They're Gone

by Curstaidh_Fraser



Series: Khazad October [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Khazâd October
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curstaidh_Fraser/pseuds/Curstaidh_Fraser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dís deals with being the only daughter to a single father, who is away most of them time. Except this time, when he left, he took her two brothers with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While They're Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Dís was 33 (human age equivalent: 16) when her father and brothers leave and the War of the Dwarves and Orcs begin. That was three years ago. She is now 36 (human age equivalent: 18) and she has no idea when or if they will ever be coming home. She is the only member of the royal family left in their settlement west of the Misty Mountains. Dwalin is ~13.

**T.A., 2796, Late Fall – Misty Mountains**

Dís plants her feet on the floor next to her bed. She sighs and stretches her arms over her head. The house surrounding her is silent. There are not grunts, snores, or farts coming from her brothers’ bedroom across the hall. There are no homely sounds creeping up through the floor along with the smell of baking bread or whatever other food that was being prepared for breakfast. Silence greets Dís in the morning. Always silence. It had been silence for the past three years. Moreover, there were no hints that there would be anything but silence in the future. She has toyed with the idea of getting a cat or a dog, just another living creature in the empty rooms would be a comfort. But she always pushed that idea aside, most days she can barely take care of herself and deal with the work that her father, grandfather, and brother’s had left behind, much less take care of anything else.

The steps creak underneath Dís mostly silent footsteps. The door to her parents – her father’s – bedroom is closed. Part of her always hopes that the door will open and Thráin or Frís will be standing there with a smile for her, just as it always used to be. But nothing was the same, things keep changing in her life, and never for the better.

Smaug came and they lost their home.

They finally find a place where they can live and be safe, it is attacked by orcs, and her mother is killed by orcs.

As a family, they finally make it through that. Then her grandfather comes up with a half-cocked scheme to move them back into Moria. Something that sounds absolutely appalling to Dís who has spent most of her life under the broad blue skies of the world. Stone is still comforting, but to rarely see the sunlight or moonlight terrifies her.

Then he disappears, killed by orcs presumably.

When her father had word of that, he set off to round up their kin and set off to “wipe the scum from this earth”. He had left and taken her brothers with him despite their tender years. She had been left behind. She was the only one left and the others who had been left behind look to her for guidance even though she has yet to reach her majority and will no reach it for another four years.

Without family present to feed, Dís tries to cook as little as possible. She makes bread once a week and tries to make do with everything else. She stuffs her feet into a pair of Thorin’s old boots, still too big for her, but an extra pair of socks fixes that problem. She wears her father’s old coat, Thorin’s mitts, and Frerin’s scarf. Memories. Comfort. She pulls the hat her mother made her down around her ears, her fingers lingering on the cables lovingly woven in the wool.

Outside snow dusts the ground and the wind out of the north is freezing, but she just wraps the too big coat tighter around her body. She stops over the nearest home. There were plenty of people that had been left behind along with her. Thorin’s friend, Írlí, and his family were here, Fundin’s son Dwalin was staying with them. She pounds on the door with her mitted fist, the thick grey wool padding her hand from the rough wood of the door.

“I’ve got it, Mâ!” Vrílí shouts as he opens the door like a popgun. His blonde hair is disheveled, but he smiles broadly at Dís.

“Are you ready?” Dís demands looking down pointedly at Vrílí’s stockinged feet.

“Yeah, I just need a moment,” Vrílí steps back and waves Dís into the warm, well-lit and bustling kitchen that is filled by Vrílí, his older sister, a large dog, and Dwalin who is constantly getting underfoot. “Mâ just finished making oatmeal, if you want some,” Vrílí says cautiously, careful not to imply that Dís cannot take care of herself. He had made that mistake once before and he had regretted it.

“I’m good,” Dís holds up the half-loaf of bread that she had stuffed into her pocket.

Vrílí rolls his eyes. “Alright, give me a moment,” he says before disappearing into one of the two rooms that branch off from the large main room.

“Hey! Dís!” Dwalin shouts from the other side of the room, beckoning her to come closer.

“Yeah?” Dís huffs as she moves closer to the dwarfling whose hair has a habit of standing straight out from the sides of his head. No matter how much Mæra combs it, it never makes a difference. Dwalin’s hair always looks like a birds nest.

“I made this.” Dwalin thrusts forward a small bear carved out of stone.

“Very nice,” Dís says taking the figurine and carefully examining the bear.

Dwalin beams up at her. “Írlí taught me.”

“It’s very nice.” Dís is recused from the conversation by Vrílí’s reappearance. His hair is a bit tamed; he looks less as if he just rolled out of bed.

“Ready?” Vrílí asks tucking a short axe into his belt.

“Definitely.” Dís hands the figurine back into Dwalin’s rough paws.

“What’s on the agenda today,” Vrílí asks, adjusting his axe.

“Nothing.”

Vrílí frowns, “Nothing?”

“I had enough of everybody yesterday. Dealing with petty grievances and I was not raised to do that. Thorin was. Frerin was. I wasn’t. I was raised to behave and be a princess, but I don’t even behave that well.”

“Anything in particular that happened?”

“No,” Dís sighs. “There was nothing in particular. Just all that nonsense that I hate doing and then going home to my empty house. The silence is oppressive. I sometimes even wish that Dwalin had been left with me,” she finishes with a laugh.

“If that’s all you need you can have him,” Vrílí says in mock seriousness.

“It’s not really that, I just miss having someone to talk to in the evenings.”

“We’re talking now?”

“I know, but sometimes I want to talk to someone in the evening before I go to bed. Reading is nice, but I’ve read all of the books in my house many times over.”

“Hmph,” Vrílí grunts. “Where are we going then if there’s nothing on the agenda today?”

“Someplace Thorin used to take me and Frerin before our amâd died. He found it once. He used to escape his responsibilities up here,” Dís points up the gently slope. “I thought that I would continue his tradition today.”

“Is it far?”

“Not really, it’s probably only a little bit further to be honest. It’s not that far from the settlement, but no one ever found him or us when we were hiding there. Our father looked him and Frerin for two days after our mother was killed. He never found them and they were only this far from home.”

“Interesting,” Vrílí says peering ahead between the trees.

Abruptly Dís turns off the dirt path that has been worn into the dead grass and snow, with Vrílí right behind her.

They hike in relative silence for about fifteen minutes until they are at the base of a small cliff. Dís follows it for a bit until she spots a shallow cave. “Here,” she smiles and drops to her hands and knees to crawl into the space that is brightly lit by the morning sun. She lays down on her back so that she can lean her head back and peer out into the bright chilly world.

Vrílí follows her in and lays down next to her. “Is this it?” he asks bunching his scarf and hat up to use them as a pillow under his head.

“Yep!” Dís turns her head to smile at Vrílí.

Vrílí does not smile back. “How long do you plan on doing this? Pretending to be okay and all that.” Vrílí asks, turning his head to face Dís. “I know you’re not okay. I wish I could help you in some way.”

“As long as I have to,” Dís says simply. “And you are helping, by being my friend.”

“But what if they never come back?” Vrílí asks quietly after a long pause.

“They will.”

“It’s a war and they’ve already been gone for three years. We never hear from them. I just want Fundin to come back because I’m tired of sharing the bedroom with Dwalin. The little bugger grinds his teeth.”

Dís snorts. “I still miss my brothers, but I haven’t shared a room with them in a really long time, so that might explain that. Not since we left Rohan.”

“Are you sure you can keep doing this?” Vrílí asks rolling onto his side so that he fully faces Dís.

Dís rolls to face him. “As long as they’re gone. But,” she pauses. “I’ll need you here with me.” Dís reaches out to take Vrílí’s bare hand.

Vrílí squeezes her hand. “I’m right here,” he says quietly.


End file.
